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Rayleigh returned to Shakky’s bar with a soft sigh. It was over, the kid was gone, off to his new adventure, and he was once again home. No more camping out, no more exhausting training, no more annoying rambling child. He was free to go back to his retirement in peace.
He stepped through with a small, barely there, smile at Shakky, leaning over to press a greeting kiss to her cheek which she returned.
“Your room is clean and ready for you,” she said, going back behind the bar, allowing Rayleigh to pass by and to the upper rooms. “Oh, and by the way someone should be stopping by soon, I’ll send him up when he gets here so be ready,” she called after him much to his confusion. Someone stopping by? Sending him up? His brows furrowed, confusion clear. Who the hell would be visiting him? And Shakky just letting him in? Letting him into his room without even asking him? He turned, narrowing his eyes down at her, but she had already turned away and he knew he was getting zero answers out of that stubborn woman.
Rayleigh sighed, deep and tired. Whatever, he didn’t care, Shakky had probably called some doctor to fuss over him, or maybe if he was lucky Red or Blue were around and visiting. Whatever it was was a future Rayleigh problem though, because current Rayleigh was just about ready to sleep for the next ten fucking years.
He kicked his sandals off once he entered the room, leaving them messily at the door. His coat was tossed to the side with equally little care, falling somewhere on the floor to be maybe picked up later. He didn’t care enough to be organized. If his past self could’ve seen him he would’ve been so pissed. Whatever, his past self could fuck off. His past self could go fuck off and curl up in a cleaned up cabin with his lovers and sons. Fuck his past self.
He collapsed onto the bed face first, smashing himself glasses and all right into the fluffy pillow he would never admit to have been missing. He didn’t even bother to put his feet up on the bed properly, or pull the covers over, simply laying there, half draped over his little bed with nothing but memories, too tired to even get up for some good booze.
Rayleigh wasn’t sure how long he laid there, face down, until the door creaked open again. He didn’t move, didn’t look up, staying stubbornly on the bed, eyes firmly closed. Maybe if he was lucky whoever it was would think he was asleep and leave him alone.
Footsteps, heavy with the weight of whatever man was invading his space, came closer until they were right in front of him. Rayleigh didn’t make a sound, buried firmly in place.
The bed dipped, indicating the man had sat down, and Rayleigh was just about ready to throw out his conquerors to knock this fucker out so he could wallow in fucking peace. He huffed, his anger winning over his frustration.
“Unless you’re bringing me booze fuck off before I make you,” he finally snapped, voice muffled by the pillow. He expected fear, maybe an apology, or if they were particularly brave, some sort of argument. He didn’t expect laughter. He especially didn’t expect the laughter to be so fucking familiar.
Rayleigh sprung up so fast he made himself dizzy, the glasses that had been painfully pressed up into his face falling off in his haste. He knew that laugh, he knew that laugh well.
“Sorry Leigh, booze is all downstairs,” the familiar low tone came through, and Rayleigh could only stare.
“Gaban… what— what are—” he took a breath, rearranging himself and picking up his glasses, suddenly feeling weirdly ashamed. “What’re you doing here?” He finished, looking up at the man, with his gentle smile and fluffy curls, still so thick and soft looking despite his old age. His sunglasses were gone, tucked into his shirt instead, showing off the beautiful copper eyes he hadn’t seen in decades and yet still remembered like it was yesterday.
“After Captain’s kid… well… I felt I had to come down, y’know?” Gaban’s voice was quiet, sad. “Came looking for you but by the time I got here you were already gone,” he continued, reaching up to grab a strand of his own hair, tugging lightly at it, fidgeting, just like he used to. Fuck.
“Shakky told me you’d be back after two years, so here I am,” he shrugged, and Rayleigh could only stare once more. That had been two years ago, he’d been gone for two years. And Gaban had been looking for him?!
“You— what about your wife? Your kid?” He stammered, clearly in disbelief.
“You know Ripley knows about you, about how I feel, and Colon loves hearing about you. They knew I had to come,” he smiled, gentle, warm, just like always. “I didn’ stay here the full two years though, I went and came back and all,” Gaban chuckled, as if two trips back and forth from Elbaf to Sabaody was nothing, as if it wasn’t at least a month or two each way. As if he hadn’t left his family to come see his old lover. And sure, Rayleigh knew that Gaban still had feelings for him, he knew that he was open about that, that he still considered him as someone important, as someone that could be seen as his. But… Gaban had a life, he had a home, he didn’t need Rayleigh. And Rayleigh was okay with that, he was okay with sitting in Sabaody and wasting the rest of his days away.
Rayleigh was okay.
Tears dropped, one after the other, slowly beginning to wet the bedding beneath them. Gaban sucked in a breath and Rayleigh squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look at him, his teeth clenched tight.
“Oh love…” it took every bit of willpower Rayleigh had to not sob. A hand came and cupped his cheek, a thumb brushed away his tears, and Rayleigh was okay, really. Rayleigh hadn’t saved Roger’s son and he hadn’t stayed with his lover and he’d yelled and screamed and he’d left everything behind. Rayleigh had drowned in alcohol and buried himself into Shakky’s chest and faked a smile. Rayleigh was okay.
Gently, ever so gently, Gaban took off his glasses, setting them aside, and brought him close, tucking his face into the crook of his neck, right where a simple shift could move the man's hair and hide him from the world. Soft curls tickled his face, a barrier, safe. And finally, after over two decades, Rayleigh broke.
Rayleigh sobbed, his hands gripping desperately at the back of Gaban’s shirt, his cries sounding more like screams. The man didn’t seem to care, holding him impossibly closer, away from the world, away from being okay.
“Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry,” his voice broke, Gaban only shushed him softly, pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head that had Rayleigh whining softly. He felt raw, broken apart, just like he had the last time he’d seen Gaban.
“Roger’s gone, we’re disbanded, there’s no reason for us to stay together.”
“Leigh… come on—”
“Leave me alone!”
“Rayleigh!”
“I SAID FUCK OFF SCOPPER!”
He’d been so angry, so hurt, everything had felt wrong without Roger, being with Gaban felt wrong, anything that brought him joy felt wrong. He had stormed off back then. Gaban had tried to stay in contact, sent him letters and given him the occasional call. After some years Rayleigh had answered, the occasional short letter or quiet hum into the den den. He’d learned about Gaban’s family, about his life, he’d listened as Gaban moved on, and he’d been glad for it, he’d been glad he didn’t lose another, but it had hurt too. It hurt that Gaban could walk forward, and his stupid legs couldn’t even take a step towards him.
He should have known, really. Gaban had always been too kind for his own good, between the chaos and the laughter, he was a soft man, loving in every way of the word. He should have known he would have never fully left him behind. He should have known he was being given time, that Gaban was doing nothing but waiting, stepping forward, yes, but also looking back, smiling at him over his shoulder and holding out his hand. And Rayleigh hadn’t taken it. Rayleigh’s eyes had stayed on the ground, not even noticing.
Rayleigh wailed like a child, he cried like he had only done once before, back when he watched his other loves eyes lose their light. And Gaban held him, whispering sweet nothings against the top of his head, hiding him under his thick mane of curls, safe and comforted and warm like he hadn’t been in years.
It took a long time for him to calm down, and he wasn’t let go once, not until he was reduced to pitiful little sniffles that would’ve been embarrassing if he had enough brain power to be embarrassed after the amount of liquid he’d lost. He was going to get one hell of a headache later.
“Better?” A warm hand brushed his hair back, carefully coaxing his face out of its hiding spot to face the man who smiled softly down at him. Rayleigh couldn’t help but look away, his face flushing ever so slightly… maybe he still had a bit of brain power left for embarrassment. He still nodded as an answer, a little bob of his head. He didn’t trust his voice.
“Good,” Gaban hummed, grabbing the end of his sleeve to wipe at his tear stained face. Rayleigh huffed, shooting a petulant glare up at the man, he wasn’t a child! He was over 80 years old for gods sakes! And yet he didn’t stop him, allowing the man to wipe his face mostly clean and press a kiss to his forehead with nothing more than a nasty look that was more of a pout than anything else.
Gaban chuckled lightly, the fondness in his eyes so clear Rayleigh wanted to sob all over again. Fortunately he was pretty sure every ounce of water in his body had been expelled, so no tears came, just a shaky sigh and a pinched look as the glare faded into nothing.
“C’mon, you’re probably exhausted, let’s get some sleep and we can talk in the morning, yeah?” Rayleigh could do nothing but nod, he was exhausted, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and pass right out.
Gaban gave him one last squeeze before letting go and pulling away slightly. He didn’t go far, only enough to easily put the glasses that had been squished between them onto the bedside table and pulling off his coat with its now tear soaked sleeve.
Rayleigh watched in silence as the man moved in familiar motions, watched as he brushed his hair away from his face and…
“Gaban?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I braid your hair?”
The room seemed to still, a sudden silence as both men stared at each other, thousands of unsaid words in their eyes. And then…
“Yeah… yes, always my love,” Rayleigh could have cried all over again.
That night he buried his face into Gaban’s chest, one hand gripping his shirt to keep him close and the other lightly wrapped around the neat single braid he’d plaited. There was no one else to do it anymore, no second body bracketing him in, no little hands pushing him away to try and get to their da’s hair first. There was no laughter or hair oils. It was just him and Gaban in the little room above Shakky’s bar. But it was warm, and the soft hair against his palm was soothing in its familiarity.
It was different, very different. Everything had changed. Roger was gone, the crew was gone. Red and Blue were out there living their own lives. Roger’s kid, the kid they all thought was dead, was gone. Everything was different. But the feel of Gaban’s hair stayed the same, silver instead of black, but still the same. The smell of the sea on his clothes stayed the same. And out there, somewhere on the sea, a straw hat still existed. It was still the same.